


Tattoos and Feelings

by vexbatch



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, F/F, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Orphans, Past Character Death, Pulse - Freeform, it's fine to work out your feelings on your characters right, most of the relationships are off screen, we're just in nat's mind for a while
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:40:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24693913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vexbatch/pseuds/vexbatch
Summary: Natasha, a tattoo artist in Orlando, has a very contemplative start to her day on the anniversary of Pulse.Natasha Romanov Bingo 2020 Fill, I4: Tattoo Shop AU
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton/Phil Coulson, Maria Hill/Pepper Potts/Natasha Romanov
Comments: 6
Kudos: 10
Collections: Natasha Bingo





	Tattoos and Feelings

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all! This is the first fic that I've written and published in....several years? ~~that's not to say my wip game isn't strong tho~~  
>  This is also the first time I've written and published a ficlet in under 3 hours! This is mostly just a journey through Nat's head and history; any mistakes are mine. Feel free to leave feedback in the comments!

It’s the 12th of June again.

Natasha slings on her jacket, shoves boots onto complaining feet, grabs the helmet waiting by the door, and trudges out of her apartment. Keys jangling, she locks the door behind her and makes her way downstairs, skirting the couple from Apartment 4C who are lugging their groceries upstairs. She had avoided looking at her phone except to shut off her alarms; Nat knew that Clint had probably sent her photos of him, Bucky, and Phil being adorable in front of the nightclub, but she just couldn’t deal with that yet.

As she approached her motorcycle, a sweet black thing she’d had for a couple years, she pushed her helmet down, the new braid of green hair resisting a bit. She shoved again, and it slid snugly down. Clasping it with one hand, Nat flipped to the bike’s key, swung her leg over, and started the engine. 

Nat loved the freedom that the bike gave her. Growing up in the orphanage, everything was dictated to her; the only freedom she had tasted was when she and Clint managed to run away occasionally. But once they had aged out and she could afford it, Nat bought herself a bike. It was beautiful and sleek, perfect for weaving through traffic or just gunning it down the highway. There was nothing like 400 pounds of rebellion to give a woman wings.

The ride to work wasn’t nearly that interesting; the tattoo shop was only 10 minutes away, and most of that on little side streets. She pulled in around the back, parking next to the red convertible that Sam favored. Her co-worker and sometimes-boss, Sam Wilson, was the reason Nat had this job at all. He’d been leading a support group out of a church basement that she’d been sitting just outside of, listening in to see if it was something she really wanted to join. 

He’d come out while she was still staring into the middle distance as the meeting broke up, thinking about the last story that had been shared. It had been some kid talking about what their adoptive parents had made them do. She had started to wonder if she and Clint had been better off in the orphanage, but tensed when Sam came out. Instead of asking her anything, he stopped for a moment, then pulled a chair up next to her. They sat like that for a long while, watching everyone else filter out. A couple people stopped to thank Sam or wave, but he only replied politely back, and they ignored Natasha completely. Once the last person was gone, Sam got to his feet saying, “I gotta close up.” He had gone back into the meeting room, but had covertly left a card on the seat next to her.

She had texted him, and come back the next week. They’d started a friendship like that, just a friendship, and she was glad for it. After a few weeks they began to talk outside of the meetings, about life and what they maybe wanted to do, and after a few more he started talking about turning her art into tattoos. She had been doodling on some napkins for the most part, just some arrows and spiders, but he seemed set on it, so she agreed to learn a little about it from him.

That had been about 6 years ago now. She was a tattoo artist in his shop, The Falcon, and could work on most any project that she wanted there. The inside had a few Maltese and Millenium callouts, but mostly it was your typical tattoo shop; covered floor to ceiling in gorgeous tattoo sketches and murals.

Today, though, Nat doubted she would get to work on much original art. There was a special on, one day only; $20 if you got a tattoo off the pre-designed board filled. It was filled with pride flags and variations on the Pulse logo, her favorite being the rainbow heartbeat designed for wrists and ankles. Nat had seen a line forming as she pulled in, and she was glad for the bike helmet to hide her face as she strode in through the backdoor.

Only Sam was there so far, which was rather unsurprising. Wanda didn’t usually show up until at least 11 am, and it was only 9. Glancing over at her, Sam paused in getting his station set up to straighten and smile at her. “Hey. You ready for today?”

Natasha shook her head, taking off the helmet as she crossed to her own station. “I don’t know.” Glancing over at the door, Nat winced. “It’s a lot of people, and I don’t know that I’ll ever be ready for today.”

Distracted by setting her helmet down and starting to get the needles set up, Natasha was taken completely by surprise when Sam’s hand landed on her shoulder. She spun, fist halfheartedly coming towards him before Sam grabbed the swinging arm.

“Hey, hey, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”

Nat nodded slowly, lowering her arm. “Sorry, I…”

He just shook his head as she trailed off. “No, it’s okay. Today is hard, especially since you lost Maria.” A tear began to creep out of Natasha’s eye, and she brushed it away as Sam continued. “Listen, I know today is difficult. And if it’s too much, you just let me know, and I’ll cover until Wanda gets in. But,” and he gently tilted her head so that Nat was looking back at him. “I also know that you are fucking strong. And I know that so many people out there would benefit from your art, and from being able to listen to you, whether you choose to share about that night or not. You don’t have to if you aren’t up for it, but I know that you can do this. I am here for you. You’ve got this.”

Natasha held his stare, even though what she wanted more than anything was to flee, back on her bike, back to the apartment, to hide herself away from the world and never come out. 

But if she kept doing that, she would never be okay with it. She would never be able to talk about that day. About being helpless at home, oblivious and alone, while Maria and Pepper went to the club that night. About holding a sobbing Pepper in the wee hours when she came home. About her life falling away from her in an instant.

She and Pepper hadn’t lasted past that; they’d stayed friends, but Maria had been their glue, so the falling apart just felt natural. Natasha had picked up her own pieces. Had kept going, moving out, moving on, throwing herself into her art and ignoring the anniversary every year, except to stay home and drink until she couldn’t tell what day it was anymore. 

This was the first year she had agreed to the Pulse special. Maybe it was Sam’s puppy eyes. Maybe it was that Clint had made plans that didn’t involve holding her hair above the toilet as she puked. Maybe it was just that Maria’s go-to whiskey had been discontinued. But if she was going to do this, she was going to fucking do it. 

Natasha blinked, refocusing on Sam’s face. “Okay.”

“Okay?” He didn’t let go or move away, concern still written on his face.

She smiled at that; she had people that cared about her, who cared enough to protect her if she still wanted to hide from the world. His belief in her reminded Nat that she owed it to herself to face this, head on. She took a deep breath. “Yeah; I’m ready. Let’s open the doors.”


End file.
